I Need ClosureWhen exactly did this "closure" phenomenon get started? I would guess that it was about the same time that hugging became not only acceptable but the de rigeur manner of greeting people one knows... I remember when people used to shake hands upon greeting, and hugging was saved for either hyperemotional or somewhat sexualized situations. I remember when one didn't have to think about how to mark one's arrival and departure from a social or family situation: you shake hands with men, you kiss women on the cheek. Life was simpler then.
Remember that? And before we had "closure," what did we yearn for? Was it something we've always needed but never realized, like microwaves and the internet? Or is it just a fancy word for the resolution that the tidy mind always reaches for?
Somehow I imagine that back in Ye Olde Days, the prehugging, pre"closure" days, that the dead car in my driveway would be described as a clunker, a heap, a lemon, a lawn-ornament. I would call a towtruck and have it removed either to a garage or a dump. But now, in these touchy-feely days of emotional attachments and infantile anthropomorphism, I find that my relationship with Miss Marjorie is dysfunctional. My Automotive Lifestyle Associate is having issues. She's having a bad feng shui day.
And I don't know what to do. Shall I spend money to have her fixed? Should I junk her and get another old car to beat up? Or should I take my father's advice and buy a brand-new car with a five-year warranty? And what, in any case, should I do about the fact that there is an inoperable Volvo taking up room in my driveway? What should I do about having to take the bus to and from work all the time? About not being able to go grocery shopping or run errands or cart things around with me?
I hate being stuck with decisions like this. I hate that, even if I did come up with a decision, I wouldn't be able to act on it right away. If I had Marjorie fixed, it would probably take quite some time to get her up and running again. And to buy another car, one has to do research, one has to comparison-price, one has to test-drive, one has to come up with financing. So far I have requested quotes for a new Ford Focus (I rented one once, and quite liked it... plus it comes in "French Blue" with a "Parchment" interior, and that sounds about as gay as I can ask a car to be) and am looking at elderly Volvos in better condition than poor Miss Marjorie.
Either way I need to get her towed... but to where? Dump? Dealer? Midsummer Mozart Festival? Until I can make that decision, everything is in stasis.
In the meantime, the rest of my life is a bit of a shambles as well. If by today the window-man hasn't finished the windows in my room, thereby allowing me to actually live in the room again, I will kick him right in the head wearing my square-toed patent-leather spectator pumps. It's not just the discomfort of having to sleep in a twin bed in the guest-room, but rather the complete feeling of displacement that I can't get into my room and simply be in my own little part of the world. Also, I can't get to my computer, or to my clothes. I thought this was going to be a one-day thing, not that it would drag on across three days.
So I can't go to my room, and I can't leave the house, and I'm simply miserable.
But I just checked and the windows are finished... so when I get home I am going to spend a great deal of time vacuuming and putting my room back together (as well as the living room, dining room, and guest room... the whole house is a wreck). And when I'm done with that, I can resume the envelope-stuffing project on which I have been engaged all day at work — I spent all day tweaking with the database and printing labels; over the weekend I am going to put all the labels on all the envelopes; and then on Monday we stuff.
And speaking of stuffing...